Justice and Vengeance
by Ethos
Summary: Miraz was not betrayed in the duel and Narnia's leadership has had to pay a terrible price for it. Now defeating the Telmarines will be more difficult than ever and the desire for vengeance may lead them astray. Movie AU. Major Delays
1. Aftershock

**Summery:** Miraz was not betrayed in the duel and the Narnia's leadership has had to pay a terrible price for it. Now defeating the Telmarines will be more difficult than ever and the desire for vengeance may lead them astray. AU based largely off the movie. Sequel to "Cry Treachery".

**Rating**: T for violence

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Narnia in any way shape or form, however, the twist that this works off of and much of the following plot is my own. Do not use them without permission, please.

**Author's Note:** This is the sequel to "Cry Treachery", a one-shot I wrote the other day. Thus, I would suggest that you read that before you get involved in this story, however, I don't think that it's absolutely necessary. I've only seen the movie once, over a week ago, at the 12:01 showing, so my memory is rather sketchy. I have tried to fill in the holes with the book, but this is an AU story by it's very nature, so just take the inaccuracies as creative license. :P Finally, I'd like to thank all the reviewers that encouraged me and gave me suggestions in the continuation of this story.

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

"Peter!" Edmond screamed, not caring that his voice cracked. Racing forward with all speed, he slid to the ground at his brother's side. "No, Peter! Peter, come on! Lucy's going to be here in just a moment, Aslan too," he pleaded. As gently as he could, he scooped up the elder boy's shoulder's and embraced him. His mouth worked for a moment, trying to find something more to say, anything, but all words fled his mind. Instead he turned his head to cast a baleful look at the bolt that protruded from Peter's ribs.

His brother was looking badly. Covered in sweat and blood, hair all amess; it pained Edmund to look at him. What was worse though was that his eyes seemed questioning, as if he wasn't quite sure what was happening. Peter always knew what was happening.

The clatter of steal broke him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Miraz staggering back with a red-fletched arrow in his shoulder. It was hardly a mortal wound, but it had been enough to keep the scum from trying anything else as he scurried back to his men. Briefly, Edmund chastised himself for letting an opponent go unwatched like that, but almost instantly his attention was drawn back to his brother.

Peter's lips were going blue now and he was struggling to breathe. Then deep red blood began to spill over his sibling's lips, making the situation even worse. _It's his lung_, he thought to himself, _the bloody thing's been punctured_. Part of him wanted to turn and begin shouting for help, but then people would crowd them, steel these few precious moments from him. He would not allow that, not when there was nothing they could do for the elder boy anyway. How he wished they were in London just then! They'd be able to get help there. Tears filled his eyes

Suddenly he realized Peter was trying to say something to him and he leaned closer, trying to make out the words, but no sound came. Still, he could read his brother's lips easily enough. Ed. He was calling for him. That finally broke whatever barriers had been left and tears started rolling down Edmund's cheeks. "I'm here, Peter, I'm here. I won't leave you. Don't leave us, Peter, we still need you. Peter..." he cried. His voice trailed off as he felt his brother stop moving. Taking a shuddering breath, he reached forward and closed the empty eyes.

When he looked up again, a black fire raged within him. Leaning over, he picked up Peter's sword and got to his feet. "You devils!" he growled and threw himself at the foremost soldiers in the Telmarine line, but he was held back by a pair of strong hands. Edmund tried to shrug them off, but they refused to let go.

"King Edmund, do not add your death to this. It will serve neither Narnia nor the King Peter," a voice behind him said in a thick Telmarine accent.

The young king glared over his shoulder at Caspian and hissed, "Let me go." As soon as the hands released their iron grip, he jerked away. Standing there for a long moment, he looked on Peter's murderers. There was a strange silence over the field as both sides wondered about their fate. What would Peter have done if their places were switched? It took him no time at all to answer the riddle. With a deliberate movement, he raised Peter's sword above his head and shouted, "Treachery! For Narnia, the Lion, and High King Peter, charge!" With that, he was off, running with all speed at the foe and feeling as if the sword was thirsting for blood.

He ducked under the first of the line and laid the man's belly open with a savage strike. He didn't really see his opponents, or hear them, he didn't even truly notice where their weapons flew. Every swing of his sword and every motion he made was dictated by instinct and instinct alone. The young king was in a red rage and he sought only two things, Miraz and Miraz's second, the one who'd been holding the crossbow during the duel. Brays, growls, howls, and screams surrounded him, but he was deaf to it all.

bdbdbdbdbdbd

Leaping astride a bay, Caspian raced back to the Howe. Glancing above the entrance, he saw Susan standing there, arrow knocked, like a statue in the sunlight. At once he lowered his eyes. Guilt ate at him, though he wasn't sure why.

As he entered the dimly lit interior of the fortress, he saw the Narnian soldiers gathered there. They looked uncertain and it occurred to him that they didn't know what had just happened, only that something seemed to be wrong. What was he doing leading these people? They needed someone else. They needed Peter. Caspian started to lower his eyes and try to disappear into the background, but he knew he couldn't. Morale was bad enough right now, the last thing they needed was for him to slink around like a whipped dog.

Hauling back on the reins, he stopped his mount in front of them, but the horse picked up on his nervous energy and danced around. "Narnians, you are needed," he said and released his reins. As if the stallion were loosed from a bow, he shot one of the tunnels in the cavern and the soldiers followed swiftly on their heels. Behind him the roof caved in as the Narnians tore down the supporting pillars. He prayed that it wouldn't catch up with him, and the prayer was answered. Just in front of him a ramp was being lowered by the swifter members of the army, and without a moment's hesitation the horse leaped atop it and galloped back into the sunlight and right into the thick of the battle.

The stallion's broad chest rammed into the first Telmarine soldier, knocking him down, and the mighty, shod hooves finished the job. The next one was too far to the side and Caspian leaned over, taking the man's head clean off with a swipe of his blade. Could this really only be his second time in true battle? There was no way. The motions came too naturally to him, and yet... the blades seemed to move in slow motion, giving him a perfect view of all the horrors of war. And Peter... would he end up like the High King? How many would die before the day ended? His stomach squeezed into a sour knot, but he thrust the feeling from his mind and thrust his blade through another man.

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

Edmund grunted with the effort as he ran another adversary through. He had no time to think about his actions though, as another weapon swept toward him and he deftly avoided it. Suddenly he was pushed into the ground and the breath was knocked out of him. Struggling in the dirt and shredded grass, he managed to pull himself up high enough to see what had landed on him. His stomach lurched when he realized it was a faun who was far beyond hope. Swiftly, he rolled the poor creature off of him and regained his feet.

The battle seemed to be going fairly well, dispite his close encounters with their casualties. All around him Telmarines were being struck down. Perhaps they could win this fight after all. But no true victory could be achieved in his mind. This battle had cost too much. Feeling his eyes burn, he gave a shout and leaped forward, slaying an enemy officer who'd drawn too near.

Scanning the sea of faces, he sought out Miraz, but couldn't see him in the fray. He muttered a foul word at that, but just then he saw Caspian making his way through the remaining foes on foot, apparently having come off his horse at some point in the fighting. That was it then. They'd defeated the villain's lackeys.

"Edmund, King Edmund!" that familiar voice shouted through the den, he raised his dark eyes to the prince's face and waited impatiently as the other approached. "We have routed these few, but there are many more over the hill. We must retreat."

The young king stood there, glaring at the other youth for a long moment. "Peter wouldn't have retreated," he growled.

"High King Peter was no fool."

Edmund was just readying a retort when the first of the trebuchets launched and the ground sprayed out around the boulder's impact.

bdbdbdbdbdbd

"Time to go?" Caspian reiterated.

The younger boy frowned, but nodded in defeat. Caspian waited for a long moment, watching Edmund as he retreated toward the Howe silently, waiting for him to give the order. When it became apparent that such an action hadn't even crossed the boy's mind, Caspian turned and shouted the order, and ere long the whole army was surging toward the refuge.

As the prince neared the Howe, he was shocked to see that his kinsmen had already managed to target the improvised fortress and even now giant stones were raining down on the entrance. They were striking near enough that he worried over the safety of the soldiers stationed up there. Suddenly one came too close and smashed apart one of the ledges. A figure was hanging over the edge and he realized who it was at the same moment he heard Edmund's voice raise in a shout. Susan! He did not think King Edmund would be able to keep himself together should he suffer any more personal losses, but there was another source of worry within him that he refused to think of. So he stood there, a few yards away, hoping that something would save her. Obviously, the dwarf who was holding onto her could not do so for much longer.

He took a couple tentative steps forward, wondering if there was anything that he could do. Then she fell. As luck would have it, she managed to land on the ledge just a few feet lower. Giving a sigh, he started to run for the doorway again, but then another missile fell and the opening collapsed. Skidding to a halt, he searched the dust for Susan. Sure enough, she'd somehow managed to ride on top of the whole mess and was now coughing the dust out of her lungs.

Moving forward, he leaned down and offered her a hand up. She took it without acknowledging his existence. It hurt more than he'd expected. Slowly he turned around to see the numerous Narnian who were standing around, awaiting orders and beyond them, the Telmarines who were inexorably moving forward.

Catching sight of King Edmund not too far off, he walked over to the boy and looked at him questioningly, but the boy didn't respond. "King Edmund?" he asked quietly, hoping to get the young man's mind back on the battle, and specifically, on what they'd do next.

"Come, Ed, now's not the time," Susan added as she joined them.

"Has anyone found Miraz yet?" Edmund ground out.

Caspian looked over at Susan who returned his questioning gaze with a frosty look. "My uncle is leading the main army now," he answered.

"He's mine."

Once again, Caspian waited for the order from the king, but none came. Instead Edmund simply tightened his grip on Peter's sword, lowered his shoulder, and barreled into the enemy. Deciding that the king's actions were signal enough, Caspian followed him in, and together they led the army back into battle.


	2. Surviving

**Rating**: T for violence

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Narnia in any way shape or form, however, the twist that this works off of and much of the following plot is my own. Do not use them without permission, please.

**Author's Note:** Thank you once again to all of those who sent me reviews. This is by far my most successful story, and I thank you for that. Unfortunately, this chapter didn't come quite as easily as the last chapter, but I'm hoping that it will serve all the same.

bdbdbdbdbdbd

Edmund didn't realize his strength was beginning to flag. The slowing of his arm was so subtle as to not be noticed by him or, indeed, those he was fighting. Still, he'd spent a lot of time fighting recently and it was starting to wear him down.

All he knew though, was that there were still many Telmarines to kill and none of those in sight bore Susan's red-fletched arrow or the golden armor of Miraz. At one lull he paused and stood as tall as he could, trying to spy the man through the sea of faces. Predictably it met with no success. Gritting his teeth and eyes blazing, he threw his shoulder into the nearest enemy before spinning and sending his sword slicing across the man's midsection.

Continuing the motion, he suddenly pulled up short as a sword dove toward him. It stopped. The man holding it gasped and collapsed on the ground. "Aha! There you are, your Majesty!" cried his diminutive rescuer, but Edmund didn't hear it, he'd already turned and struck down yet another foe.

bdbdbdbdbdbd

Parrying a blade, Caspian quickly switched his grip to Half-Blade and swept the pommel into the other Telmarine's face, shattering the cheekbone and several teeth before twisting the sword so that the blade slid smoothly through a gap in the armor. The wide eyes of the dying man fixed on him for a long moment, and he got the awful feeling that he knew him. Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he turned away.

Swiftly, he took stock of the situation. Somewhere out there in that swirling mass, he knew, or at least hoped, that Edmund and Susan were still fighting. For a moment he thought he saw Trumpkin a ways off, but he couldn't be sure. The overwhelming fact was they were loosing. The evidence was all around him, taking the forms of Narnian dead.

Then he came to an even worse realization. He was alone. No curly-horned fawns or stayers were near him, nor were there any more beast-like creatures. There was just the hard steel and blue uniforms of his own people. Feeling adrenaline pour into his veins, he barged his way through. At the last moment a shield shot out and intercepted him, sending him flying backward as lights flickered behind his eyes.

Stunned, it took him a long moment to clear his head and discover that he was laying on the ground. Then he noticed the gilded Telmarine that stalked toward him. Instantly he was on his feet. He held his sword out before him, waiting. This newest opponent had an all-too familiar limp. "No more petty kings for you to hide behind now, boy!" his uncle growled.

"I am not afraid of you," Caspian retorted, sounding like he was convincing himself as much as Miraz. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he waited for his opponent to make the first move. It did not help that the images of Peter's duel were still horribly vivid in his mind. Yes, Miraz was at a disadvantage thanks to the wounds the High King and Queen Susan had dealt him, but the fact remained that Miraz and Peter had been evenly matched and Caspian was no hero of legend.

All the response that Caspian received from his uncle was a barking laugh and an overhead strike. Instinctively, Caspian raised his sword to block it and the impact numbed his arm. Cursing, the prince drew back and shook his arm, willing the tingling to dissipate. Time was not granted to him though. The sword swept up to be narrowly deflected and it was all he could do to dodge the shield that was suddenly swung at him. With each swing his uncle took, Caspian found himself shrinking further back and deeper into Telmarine lines.

He wouldn't survive this much longer. Just then an image flashed through his head and he saw Peter strike at the wound he'd already inflicted on Miraz, bringing the big man down if only for a moment. Spotting his chance, Caspian stepped forward and brought his sword down on the shaft of Susan's arrow, causing the head to twist in the wound. Then he rolled under the feeble attempt at retaliation, and rammed his armored elbow into the injured thigh. It worked. At least, it worked well enough. Miraz stumbled and his nephew came up behind him, aiming a vicious swing at his back.

Miraz turned around. Experience was in the elder man's favor here and it showed. From the moment he'd gone down, Caspian could tell that he was expecting the young man's maneuver. Still, the prince was by far the quicker of the two, and he managed to split some of the rings on Miraz's shoulder, leaving a heavy bruise beneath.

"Perhaps you could have become a worthy Telmarine," Miraz mused as he fingered his new injury. The logic in Caspian's mind screamed at him to strike in that vulnerable moment, but his feet remained rooted in the ground. Rocking back and forth, he waited as his opponent rose. "Or perhaps not. You've always been too soft."

As if some switch was suddenly flipped, the two opponents suddenly launched into each other. Their swords clashed mightily. Miraz was tiring and his wounds were paining him more with every passing second. Silently, Caspian thanked Peter for that. Exerting all the energy that he still possessed, he increased the tempo of his blows until he could hardly control them any longer. Miraz fell.

Setting the tip of his sword lightly against the man's throat, Caspian stood poised to take life. "I would spare you," he offered quietly. Miraz simply kneeled there, fixing him with an iron glare. Feeling his hopes sink, the prince tightened his muscles and prepared to land the blow.

Then the ground erupted.

Roots writhed like snakes across the ground, upsetting men and beasts alike, and Caspian felt himself thrown back. Spying his chance, Miraz leaped to his feet and raced off with all speed toward his retreating army.

Standing slowly, Caspian looked up and around and was shocked to realize that the very trees had joined the battle. He closed his eyes. He opened them. They were still there. Mentally shrugging, the prince made his way toward the nearest knot of Narnians and joined the the pursuit.

bdbdbdbdbdbd

Time was inconsequential. He only marked it's passage by the hue of his sword. All his years of experience, all his training under the greatest swordsmen of the past age showed, as he slew foe after foe with barely a thought. There was something almost dance-like to his deadly movements, not that he'd ever been one to dance. If someone had not seen the men falling at every turn or the black wrath in his eyes, they might have thought it a beautiful thing.

Then he was jolted out of his rhythm. A finishing blow he'd sent flying had been deflected unexpectedly with a strong parry and he paused for a moment, measuring up this new opponent. It wasn't an overly large Telmarine, but he was lean and swift with a calculating eye.

Edmund faked to one side, then thrust his sword strait forward. It was blocked. Throwing a few half-hearted blows his opponent's way, he tried to lure the man into a relaxed tempo before ducking under the clanging steel and sweeping his sword at the man's legs. He met with air.

Edmund didn't have time for this. Miraz was out there somewhere, getting away with Peter's blood on his hands. This fight needed to end and it needed to end now. Growling, he launched a furious barrage of attacks. Suddenly fire raked along his left arm and he cried out, clutching it to him. Blood was dripping from his fingers. Cursing his foolishness, the king drew back studying his opponent with more respect than he had originally.

Their swords tapped each other lightly then, testing for weaknesses. Unfortunately, Edmund's was now all too clear as he hugged his shield arm. Then he noticed something about his opponent; the man was lightly favoring his right leg. Taking a quick glance around, he realized that the ground was horribly uneven just a few feet away. Quickly picking up the tempo, he dodged this way and that, struck again and again, trying to keep his enemy's mind occupied. Sure enough, he managed to force the other man onto the rough ground and the man stumbled. Edmund was waiting for it. Instantly his blade slid under the breastplate and the fight was over.

Looking out over the battlefield, he was surprised to see the enemy in a retreat that was quickly beginning to look like a route. He hadn't been paying much attention during the battle, but somehow he felt sure that it should have ended the other way around. Then he saw the trees. _At a girl, Lu!_ he thought, a wintery smile on his face. He began to follow his countrymen in the pursuit of their foes. Then a hand reached toward him. Looking up he saw a centaur running alongside him, offering to pull him up. He took the hand and swung up onto the creature's back.

It was a good thing that the centaur had come when he did, though Edmund wasn't about to acknowledge it. Every muscle in his body was weary and even now his arm was throbbing with every motion no matter how subtle. Thus it was, he wasn't paying much attention to their course, but he came back to the matter at hand quickly when they stopped on the edge of the river. The Telmarine army was wedged between them and a pair of figures on the other shore. Lucy? Aslan? Edmund blinked and when the image did not change he felt hope flutter in his heart. Still, what were they against the forces who were preparing to flee over them?

The question was answered in a rather magnificent manner as Aslan roared and the waters changed. Suddenly a figure appeared in the water, smashing the bridge and sending the enemy swimming to whatever bank they could reach. Even better, most of them left their swords on the banks, signaling an unconditional surrender. Edmund slipped off the centaur's back and walked forward. Caspian and Susan were near at hand and they waded across the river together.

Aslan was even more beautiful than he could recall, and perhaps even bigger. That seemed rather odd to him, but he put it aside. Lucy rushed to him and he embraced her with his good arm. His eyes began stinging once again as he stood there. How could he tell her? Out of all of them, Lucy had always been closest to Peter. It would destroy her, he was certain of it.

Still, there was something else he had to do, and so he put off bearing the dreadful message for a moment while he turned to face Aslan and took a knee.

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

**Author's Other Note:** For any of you who might be wondering: "Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning" to quote Churchill. Somehow I find that oddly appropriate considering the timeframe and location (in our world). At least, provided my muse doesn't run off to Fiji for a vacation.


	3. Of Words and Wisdom

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Narnia in any way shape or form, however, the twist that this works off of and much of the following plot is my own. Do not use them without permission, please.

**Author's Note: **Ok, so I actually have a number of things to say this time. First and foremost, thanks again to all my wonderful reviewers. You cannot imagine how happy your comments make me, unless, of course, you also write, in which case you probably have a fairly good idea. Probably, most of you do write, in which case, just disregard that last bit. You do know how happy you're making me.

This chapter did not, I repeat, did NOT want to come into existence. So after fighting with it tooth an nail, I eventually come up with something that works-ish. Aslan was probably my biggest difficulty. I love him, don't get me wrong, but perfect isn't easy to write. Also, sorry for those Edmund fans out there, this doesn't have a ton of him in it. His mind is a rather dark, introspective, brooding, and scary place at the moment, and, seeing as I didn't think ya'll would like a chapter-long Edmund monologue, I stayed out of there for the most part.

Anyway, that's it. I'm going to make myself hush now. Better stay away from the sugar next time.

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

Being in battle was a fairly new experience for him. Winning one was even newer, and it seemed that it would be wise to follow those who knew what came next. So he did so. King Edmund had a black cloud around him, it was obvious enough for anyone to tell and Caspian didn't dare intrude upon the boy's privacy. Instead he followed a pace behind Susan, hoping that it would serve as well.

They crossed the river with little difficulty, and ere long the prince realized that they were making their way toward the lion who stood beside Lucy. All the sudden the pieces came together in his mind. Could it really be? Aslan? After all these years? His eyes grew round and wide. Still, the evidence was very convincing. After all, that was who Queen Lucy had been sent to fetch, and who else could have summoned the river god? He swallowed and it seemed to stick in his throat.

Lowering his eyes, he dragged himself forward, finding it more difficult with each step that he took. He wasn't quite sure whether he was relieved or even more distressed when he followed the example of the other children and knelt before the Great Lion. Bracing himself, he raised his eyes.

"Edmund! Susan! See! I told you he was here! And we came just in time too!" Lucy squealed, racing forward to embrace her siblings. However, when Edmund flinched away and she noted his wound, she made a quiet 'tsk'ing sound.

"Peace, Lucy. There is much that must pass now," said the great voice and Caspian shuddered as if he'd stepped out of a shadow and into the sunlight.

"Aslan... Lucy, I'm sorry I have to tell you," Susan started to say, but her courage wavered and she stopped. Queen Lucy tilted her head and looked at her sister oddly, no doubt wondering what this was all about.

Suddenly the low sound of a pipe caught everyone's attention and they all turned to look, then looked down. They found a procession of mice coming toward them, carrying Reepicheep. Caspian hadn't known the small knight very long, but seeing him more dead than alive, as he was, was almost more than he could bare, especially after the other events of the day.

"Lucy," came Aslan's voice, and the youngest queen of Narnia snapped into action. For a long moment there was perfect silence. Each member in the gathering was waiting to see if the day would become an even heavier burden on their shoulders. And just when all hope was lost, the furry chest rose again.

In a flash, the mouse was back on his feet, apologizing profusely for appearing before Aslan as he had. Never mind that he'd nearly been killed on the field of battle. Then the courageous creature nearly fell flat on his face, and he realized that he'd lost his tale. The debate raged for a while over whether or not Aslan should make it grow back, but Reepicheep won out, thanks in no small portion to his people.

Caspian could hardly believe it. Not very long ago, the Old Narnians had only existed in the stories Doctor Cornelius had told him. Now they walked and talked right in front of him. More than that though, all the chivalry of a centaur was being exhibited in a body of a rodent. It was enough to make him grin, even on this dark day. Looking over, he noticed the faintest turning in the corners of Queen Susan's mouth and was glad. Even King Edmund seemed to have warmed at the sight, though he still seemed distant.

After the mice left there was a brief pause, which Queen Lucy spent on her tip-toes looking out over the soldiers. "Now where has Peter gotten off to?" she asked, more rhetorically than not. "Probably caught up in some high and noble duty. Still, I'd think he'd come to see me after all this." When her oldest brother didn't appear and no one answered her, she frowned and worry began to show on her face. "Where is he?" she asked quietly.

"Lu..." Susan started to say, but her voice trailed off. She looked altogether too pale and there was a rigidness to her shoulders that Caspian had never seen before. Dispite her stony expression, he had the distinct feeling that she was fighting desperately to hold back tears. Truly this was a burden she should never have had to bear.

Placing a staying hand on the elder queen's shoulder, he locked eyes with the younger. "Queen Lucy, I - I am sorry to tell you this, but your brother has fallen," he told her as gently as he could.

"What do you mean, 'fallen'?" Queen Lucy asked. The prince had little doubt that she knew the answer, but that didn't matter at the moment.

"I mean... King Peter gave his life for Narnia on this day."

"No!"

"It's true, Lu," Susan whispered.

The youngest Pevensie went perfectly white and tears began rushing down her cheeks. To Caspian, it seemed that only a great force of will was keeping her from being racked with sobs.

"Oh Aslan, can't you do something? Can't you bring him back?" she begged.

The Lion closed his eyes slowly and took a deep breath breath before opening them once again. Those eyes, Caspian had never seen anything like them, and the sorrow that they communicated was overwhelming. "No, Dear One," he said at last. "Your brother has left. He has earned this holiday and it would be a cruel thing to deny him it."

At that, Queen Lucy stood very still, but then her shoulders shook and a ragged breath tore through her throat. Suddenly she turned around and ran off, into the nearby woods.

"Oh, that was very well done," Susan said and raced after her sister.

Now it was just the two boys and Aslan in the clearing. Aslan had not moved, nor changed his expression in any way, Caspian was rather shocked at the whole thing, but King Edmund... the younger boy was fuming.

"What's all this about leaving and holidays, Aslan? You and I both know he's dead," King Edmund growled and he glared at the Lion as if he could kill him with looks alone.

"It is as I said, he is simply on a holiday."

Edmund looked up at the Great One now with disbelief and disgust written all across his face. "Aslan, I was with him when he died. I was embracing him, letting him know he was not alone. I... I saw the... the blood and the...," the young king's voice died as he took a shaking breath. "He is dead."

Great tears formed at the corners of the Lion's eyes then, and he wept without any shame. "Yes, he is dead as you would say, both in this world and in your own, but all that means is that he has gone to a different one."

Glancing over at King Edmund, Caspian tried to see the younger boy's reaction, but it was hard to tell. If anything changed it might have been that there was a little less anger in his form, though there was probably more disbelief.

"King Caspian."

Caspian's eyes flew to Aslan and he bowed his head saying, "My Lord, I fear you have named me incorrectly. I am but a prince."

"King Caspian, it has ever been within my power to declare the kings and queens of Narnia. It is now your turn to reign over this land."

"But... I fear that I am not ready."

"And that is exactly why you are. Let no one tell you otherwise. Go now, Son of Adam. The battle has cost your people much, and they need their king to guide them."

Nodding, shaking, Caspian got to his feet and bowed low. Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

"Edmund," came the deep voice and the boy returned his attention to the Lion who sat before him. There was an uncanny, knowing expression in the being's face that left him unsettled. "Revenge does not become a king of Narnia."

"Sir? I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," the king replied.

"I'm talking about your heart, Young One. When you return to the soldiers, you will learn that Miraz was slain by the river god, but that his second, the general named Glozelle, escaped with a band of his soldiers into the woods. I know you shall want to seek him out."

"Sir, you called me King Edmund the Just, it seems like it's my place to seek out justice."

"Yes, justice you may seek out with my blessing, but I fear that you shall seek revenge instead."

"There's a difference?"

Aslan gave a sigh then and eyed the young king even more intently. "There is, and you know it well. Do not stray from seeking justice, King of Narnia. Revenge is a black pit that is not easily escaped, and you may hurt those that you do not intend to in the process. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir,"

"Now I must go, but I will return ere long. See to the others." With that the great, beautiful creature known as Aslan stood, and turned. He walked away into the forrest for some distance, then disappeared, and Edmund was left kneeling there, wondering if it was some trick of the forrest or whether the Great Lion had truly vanished into thin air.


	4. Mourning and Morning

**Author's Note:** Well, here's another chapter. Sorry it took so long. I've graduated from highschool, begun preperations for a mission trip, and had family over. So it's been insane. Hopefully I'll be able to get the rest up in a timely fashion, but it's going to be a challenge. Anyway, I hope ya'll will enjoy this. There's a clip from Lucy's POV (I know, surprizing, huh?) and Reepicheep steals some of Gen. Patton's lines, but oh well.

**Warning:** If you were having trouble stomaching my battle scenes, you'll want to skip the portion in italics toward the end of this chapter. It's a rather disturbing dream that Edmund has (General idea curtesy of my dear friend, RedNex, but unfortunately, I have to take credit for the violence), which is meant to be a little harder on the stomach. I hope it won't cause any problems.

Anyway, have fun and here goes!

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

There was a great contrast in Edmund's features. He strode purposefully, yet didn't seem to pay attention to where he walked. His flashing eyes seemed unnaturally dark against the paleness of his face. There were emotions, bubbling black ones, but no thoughts, at least, not as far as he could tell. That being the case, he almost tumbled over himself when a voice broke through his brooding.

"Sire!" called a centaur, racing up to him and bowing low. "I fear I have a bitter report to bring you. Miraz was slain in battle, but his general, it seems, has escaped along with a number of men."

"Yes, yes, I know," Edmund replied, waving a hand in the soldier's general direction and otherwise paying very little heed.

"But... how? This is new information."

"Aslan told me."

"I see," the centaur said slowly, as if thinking. "Well, shall we pursue them?"

This finally won a pause from the young king. Fingers slowly curling into fists, he looked down, but after the space of a few moments he breathed deeply and broke the spell. "No," he said quietly. "We see to the dead and wounded first. Then we'll hunt that dog." The last was not so much of a command as it was an oath.

"What?!" demanded an outraged voice, but Edmund was already moving on.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

"We'd best head back."

Lucy started to shake her head, but arms were wrapped around her and a kiss was planted on the top of her head. The kiss reminded her of Mother, and the warmth gave her comfort that she needed. She flung herself into that hug, returning it with interest. How had Susan gotten so good at this?

"Now, come on," Susan said, breaking away and grabbing hold of her hand. This time Lucy nodded and fell into step beside her elder sister.

Slowly, they made their way back into the hustle and bustle of the temporary camp. Just looking at it was nearly overwhelming to the little girl. Narnians were racing here and there, busy as could be imagined, while Telmarines gathered in wary clusters, guarded of course, by several stout warriors. On the far side, she could see the piles of bodies and the pallets covered restless wounded. Lowering her eyes, she shuddered, but Susan's hand on her back kept her moving forward.

Then Susan left, heading toward whatever duties awaited the eldest queen of Narnia. Lucy was rather glad she didn't have such pressing business to see to, being the youngest of them all, but it left her alone with her thoughts, and that was hard to bear. Just then a pair of voices broke through her daze.

"Still, I don't like it. Anyway, it's not very politic of him," muttered a collie.

"Fine then!" growled an exasperated Reepicheep. "Call your pups 'boys' when they misbehave. You'll find that the king isn't nearly so petty as you. Now shut up." Just then, he noticed Lucy and dipped into a low bow. "Hail Queen Lucy!" he called. "How fair you, my lady?"

A smile had been itching at the corners of her mouth, but any sign of it disappeared as she took in the mouse's question. "I suppose I'm alright," she replied.

"Only alright?" Reepicheep asked, coming to face her. "I should suggest that you be something more than that. Perhaps excellent, superlative, exemplary, or magnif-" Suddenly the knight cringed; tears were beginning to roll down Lucy's cheeks in an unchecked torrent. "Now now, I'm sorry for that. I wasn't thinking. I shall take a lashing on the morrow for my poor behavior. But still, my queen, we have taken the field when all odds were against us. Isn't that some cause for rejoicing?"

"My brother is dead!"

"My lady, the High King died a hero. He gave his life to buy us those precious few minutes that spelt victory. Were it not for him, there would have been no hope for us. I understand your sorrow, but I think it is wrong. We should not morn him, instead, I think we aught to thank the Lion that we were gifted with such a king, or brother, for however short a time." At last finishing his piece, the mouse reached up and patted her hand as best he could.

Lucy wasn't quite sure what she thought of all that, but it was plain to see that the loyal mouse meant nothing but the best. She had to fight down the sudden urge to hug the little knight, fearing that she'd crush him and knowing that it would, at the least, bruise his ego. Instead she just nodded, and walked off, hoping that she'd find a bed made up for her somewhere.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

There was a lengthy debate over where he should be buried and where the kings and queens should take up residence for the time being. It was decided by the remaining Pevensies that the High King should be buried in the ancient graveyard near some old ruins they claimed had once been Cair Paravel. Meanwhile, they sent dwarves to work on the Telmarine fortress so that it would be accessible to all Narnians, not just those who walked on two legs and stood six feet off the ground.

So the next few days were spent moving the army out of Aslan's Howe and into the old ruins, and to tell the truth, Caspian was shocked to see them. He knew that the Kings and Queens were out of ancient legend, but nothing had truly brought home their antiquity until he saw the crumbling foundations of the place they'd called home for so many years. Truly, he must have looked at the other children oddly for a while after that.

They buried High King Peter with all the honors befitting his position. The lion rampant was flown at half-mast. Red and gold ribbons fluttered in the sea breeze, being the high king's colors. The the trees grew a coffin of the rarest woods, more beautiful than any that had been seen before and the dwarves fashioned a headstone of marble, upon which, the centaurs carved a strange and magical epitaph. Dispite the weight of the situation, only his friends spoke. They even managed to get the D.L.F, as Queen Lucy called him, to say a piece. Caspian hesitated for a long while, recalling his early animosity with the king, but after a while he recalled that moment of understanding that had passed between them near the end.

Clearing his voice, he lowered his eyes and wrung his hands, hoping that his speaking would not bring offense. "I wish I had gotten to know you better, I think we could have been dear friends," he murmured. Immediately, he felt foolish for his words, but he forced himself to stay until the end of the ceremony.

Standing there, in the oppressive silence, he looked over the king and queens who still remained. King Edmund was lost in his own world, it was plain to see. Somehow Caspian saw him as an infected wound; angry and tense, painful to all involved. He would have to be lanced or the infection could very well spread. Queen Lucy was all tears and sobs, kneeling on the grass with her face in her hands. He felt sorry for the girl. Though he didn't know her well, he'd definitely gotten the impression that she relied heavily on her oldest brother. Queen Susan now, now there was an interesting riddle. She stood there silently, stoically, icy cold as the world crumbled around her. He knew that she'd loved her brother, at least to some extent, so why was she not mourning him as the others were? Suddenly an idea came to his mind, but then his thoughts were interrupted.

A loud horn sounded and the Narnians gathered on the nearby green. The mice pulled out their pipes, the dwarves their drums, and the centaurs their flutes. Music began to drift up. It was a twisting tune with haunting tones and bright melodies. Then all the Narnians joined in, dancing or singing. The Pevensies seemed to understand what was going on, but they did not join in. Finally Trumpkin walked up to him and explained that Narnians celebrated lives rather than mourning deaths. The idea was certainly a strange one, but Caspian had to admit that there was something about it that he liked.

Perhaps an hour or two later, the feasting began. Everyone had their favorite foots and wine and mead flowed unabated. Somewhere in it all, Caspian realized that Queen Susan was no longer present. Excusing himself from the table, he walked out of the ruined hall. True, everything was outside at this point, Cair Paravel being nothing more than ruins, but the staggering walls served to cut off the noise and firelight, leaving Caspian feeling as if he'd just gone outside. Pausing, he adjusted his eyes to the moonlight and searched the night air for any sounds that would tell him where the queen had gone. All he heard were the nightbirds.

"Queen Susan?" he called. He walked into the trees a short way and peered through the branches. Finally, he saw the queen sitting on a log, looking at the ground, statue still. "Queen Susan?" he repeated.

"Oh, do stop, Caspian. You heard Aslan, we're equals now," she replied quietly.

"I shall try... Susan," he said, concentrating on keeping her title off his tongue. "Why are you out here?"

"I just wanted to think. I never could get used to this tradition."

"I can agree with you on that. All this merriment seems... odd. We... the Telmarines mourn their dead, we don't celebrate."

"That's how England is too."

"May I have a seat?"

"Why not."

"Thank you." For a long while there was only silence as each surrounded themselves with their own thoughts. Finally Caspian looked up at Susan and found his voice. "You don't have to be like this," he murmured.

"Excuse me?"

"Like this; cold, silent. I haven't seen you cry a single tear since the High King... I know why you're doing it, but Qu- Lucy and Edmund aren't here right now. You don't have to be strong. Peter would not have wanted to see you like this."

Once again things were quiet and Caspian was feeling like he'd come where he wasn't wanted. Then he heard a shuddering breath, and looking over, he realized that tears were slowly rolling down the queen's cheeks. She didn't say anything to him, but she sat there, quietly grieving for several minutes. Suddenly she stood up and wiped the tears off her face.

"I'm sorry," she said, setting a hand on his shoulder. "You've been very kind, but I can't. Not yet. Lucy and Edmund need me, and they're probably wondering where I've gone off too." With that she turned and walked off, leaving Caspian to wonder if he'd done any good at all.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

Several hours later, Edmund collapsed on the make-shift bed. It probably had something to do with the enormous amounts of food he'd eaten, or the dry wine that warmed his veins, but he was more exhausted than he could remember. He didn't even change his clothes. The second his head touched the pillow he was out.

_Peter! He shouted and raced to catch his falling brother. No, not you Peter! Not now! Not again! No matter how much he screamed though, the bolt was still there, plunged between the blonde boy's ribs. Blood boiled out of the wound and frothed in his brother's mouth, pooling around them, flooding the area. _

"_You've always been there, Ed," Peter whispered, his eyes wide and starting, the words bubbling out of his mouth. "You've always been there... until now." Then Peter's eyes rolled back and he went limp. Standing up in the lake of blood, Edmund raised his eyes, and suddenly he was looking down the shaft of a bolt, the twin of the one that'd slain his brother, and the general's face hung above it, leering, laughing, bright teeth flashing as he licked his lips and pulled the trigger. _

Edmund jerked awake and instantly regretted it as his head began pounding. There was altogether too much light seeping through his tent, that was for sure. Then laughter echoed in his ears, menacing, and strangely familiar. Instantly the dream came back to him. Slipping out of bed, he picked up his sheathed sword and hung it about his hips. It was time that things were seen to.


	5. Debate

**Author's Note:** First off, I'd love to thank you all and hand out free, digital ice-creams. You readers have been awesome, giving this story a total of 20 reviews and over 1500 views. I love ya'll. It's the least I can do to write another chapter.

Ok, quick disclaimer here. I wrote this while swimming in pain meds after having four wisdome teeth pulled. So things could potentially be very interesting. I'm hoping that nothing 'drugged' will show up, but I can't guarantee it won't. Also, in about a week, I'm going to be leaving for a mission trip to Nicaragua for two weeks, so I won't be posting then. Hopefully I'll be able to get another chapter out before I go, but if not, expect one a few weeks from now.

Anyway, on to the story...

**bdbdbdbdbdbd**

Morning came all too early for the new king. Still, he couldn't very well ignore the birds, talking birds at that, who were chattering just outside his pavilion. Kicking off the covers, he rolled out of bed and started pulling clothes on. They were horribly wrinkled, and he thought he could see some crumbs on them from the night before, but they were the only ones that weren't having bloodstains cleaned out of them.

Apparently someone had been very thoughtful and left a bowl of warm water sitting on the floor. Caspian kneeled down beside it and rinsed off his face and hands before simply pausing to breathe. It was still hard for him to accept that he'd defeated his uncle and was now a king of Narnia, but little by little it was beginning to sink in.

"Edmund! You can't!" Lucy's voice pleaded somewhere outside. Curiosity piqued, Caspian toweled off his face and slipped outside. There he saw the two queens following Edmund, who seemed to be on a mission of some sort.

Swallowing hard, Caspian called out, "What is the matter?"

Instantly Susan spun to face him, utter frustration apparent in her expression. "He's going after the general. Caspian! Our scouts haven't even reported back on their position or numbers and he wants to go gallivanting off after them." She stopped then and looked at him pointedly.

Suddenly Caspian found himself the center of attention. Eyes flicking back and forth between the faces, he stood still, trying to bring his mind to task. "I'm coming with you," he said at last, looking to Edmund. Then he returned to his tent and grabbed his sword. He was buckling it about his waist when he stepped back through the flap, and was immediately accosted by the elder queen.

"I can't believe you! I tell you that my brother's gone mad and you rush off to join him?" she ranted.

Caspian brushed past her, and spotting a soldier, ordered that Destrier be brought to him, before heading after Edmund.

"Are you listening to me? You've got to try to stop him!"

Suddenly, he pivoted and faced her. "You've already tried to talk to him, right?"

"Yes."

"Then what do you think I can do? My opinion is of far less consequence to him than yours. Wether you want him to or not, he's going, and I'm going with him."

"No one is going anywhere! Caspian, you could both get killed out there. Narnia can't afford to loose any more rulers."

"Then it's a good thing you and Lu are staying behind isn't it?" Edmund interrupted acidly.

"Ed! How can you? You know as well as I do that Lucy can't take any more!" By now the young queen in question was staring at her siblings, wide eyed, and Caspian couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the girl.

"The only one who's going to die is that bloody general and his men."

With that, Edmund mounted his horse and spurred it off, a small retinue of soldiers following in his wake. Caspian moved toward Destrier, but a hand took hold of his shoulder and spun him around. Susan glared into his eyes saying, "You can't go!"

He started to peal her fingers off his shoulder, but then, realizing how calloused the motion was, stopped. "Susan, I must go. How will the people think of their new king if he sits back while others fight? Anyway... he's right. We need to crush them now, before they regroup."

"Please." Her voice was soft now, pleading, and her eyes had a wet glimmer to them.

Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder, mirroring her own movement. Their eyes met and for a moment there was silence. Then, almost a whisper: "Your brother will survive this."

Susan bit her lip, probably thinking to herself, and some understanding passed between the two of them. Finally, the elder queen of Narnia nodded and withdrew.

He was almost in a daze as he mounted Destrier. The things that had just happened were quite beyond him, and the whole weight of the situation had yet to come down on him. Wasn't it just last night that he'd been feasting and drinking with the Narnians? Where would he be tonight?

Entering the forrest, he tightened the reins. He'd been involved in a few fights now, including ones that he'd really rather not. A wince came over his face as he contemplated High King Peter's night attack. Still, Peter had been in his right mind through that, even if he was wrong. Looking at the boy he was currently following into the unknown, he wasn't sure he could say the same thing about Edmund. There was a fury there that seemed to be beyond rational limits. Ice-cold fingers played up and down his spine, but he straightened his back and spurred the big stallion on.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

As soon as the boys left sight, Lucy lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Susan, burying her head in the folds of the other girl's dress.

"Easy there, Lu," the elder queen said, patter her sister on the back. "They'll be back before you know it.."

"How do you know?"

"I just... do, ok? Lets go find some breakfast before the fauns eat it all."

Slowly, the small girl nodded and, taking her sister's hand, began walking away. Susan followed, keeping her back rigid and her eyes focused directly in front of her. It was hard; giving Lu the confidence she didn't feel.

**bdbdbdbdbdbdbd**

His stiff posture annoyed the big gelding, causing the bay to begin wringing it's tale out behind it. Still, Edmund paid him no heed. Instead, he looked straight ahead and guided the beast with his knees. It was a neat bit of skill, one that he'd picked up back during the Golden Age and which had, fortunately, come back to him along with his plethora of other Narnian talents.

The king was well aware of the small group of soldiers that followed him through the dense brush, and even more aware of the new king that rode some distance behind him as well. He still wasn't quite sure what had possessed the other boy to follow him. By all rights, he should have chosen the girls' side, especially considering the way he and Susan had been batting eyes at each other all this time. True, the Telmarine had given reason enough, and Edmund was pleased to hear that the other king agreed with him, making him feel more confident about his plan, but still, he somehow doubted that he understood the whole story behind Caspian's actions and that bothered him.

"Sire," Reepicheep called up as he passed the horse.

"Yes?"

"Shall we send out scouts to discern the enemy position and learn of their disposition?"

"Yes."

"Then I and eleven of my-"

"No. I need you and you're mice here. Give orders for the panthers and bobcats to head out. We need their sort of stealth."

"As you command, your Highness," the small talking beast said and, sweeping into an elegant bow, turned to deliver the orders. The knights antics almost brought a smile to his lips, but then his brother was dying in his arms again, and all traces immediately disappeared.

As he shook his head to clear the image, he couldn't help but wonder when this hell of memory and imaginings would end. Every time his mind went back, his stomach knotted, and he found himself being quite worried that the visions would start to wear on him mentally. He didn't know how many more times he could watch his brother die before it left a more permanent mark on him. Forget that. The first time had done it well enough.

Looking over his shoulder, he spotted Caspian a few lengths behind him and held his hand up, palm forward, signaling a halt. "Caspian?"

"Yes?" the other boy said, heeling his horse forward.

"You-you think we should pause here for a moment while the scouts are doing their work? To make some plans and all?"

He was surprised by the sigh that tore out of Caspian's throat. It was as if the elder boy had been holding his breath ever since they left the girl. Of course, that was ridiculous seeing as the sun had already traveled a few hours worth since then. "Yes, I should think that would be a good idea, though we can't make any solid plans until we get their intelligence back."

"True." Standing up in his stirrups, the remaining Pevensie boy called out to his soldiers, "We rest here for a time, but don't get too comfortable. We'll head out after the scouts return."

Edmund was fond of the location he'd chosen. Tall cedars grew all around them, sweeping branches sheltering them from weather and unfriendly eyes. "But no fires," the boy added on second thought. "We don't want our 'friends' to have any hints."

Dismounting, Edmund immediately turned to consider the elder king. "Come with me. I've already got a few decent ideas, but you know these people better than I do."

At those words, Caspian's face seemed to grow a shade paler, but he simply nodded and fell into step behind him. It probably hadn't been a good idea to remind him that he was fighting against his kin, and he made a mental note to avoid that in the future. Still, it was about time that this child started acting like a new king of a country.

Snatching a map from one of the soldiers, Edmund took a seat on a stump and spread it out on the ground in front of him. "We're right here," he said pointing to the map, though by now Caspian was sitting down as well and could read the map as easily as he could. "and I figure that they're somewhere around here or here," he said, drawing a stick around the nearby hills and valleys depicted on the paper.

"That would be my guess as well," Caspian replied.

For the next twenty minutes or so, the two young kings sat there, hunched over the map and whispering plans to each other. Then a large black panther walked up to them, dipping it's head and interrupting their scheming.

"My kings," he began in a silky voice. "We've sighted them in the northern foothills a little over two leagues from our camp."

"Well, that's not far away. I wonder why they haven't traveled any more than that," Caspian murmured.

"No question about it, my league, they've holed themselves up in a system of caverns overlooking a river. It's a fine position. I should suggest that we send for reinforcements, it will not be an easy fight."

"It's a system of caves, you say?" Edmund replied. "How do you know their intending to hold it? It could very well be that they're filtering out some back exit into heaven knows where, and we won't be able to find them again until they've recovered their strength. How many could they possibly have, anyway? We've already killed or captured enough of them. We'll attack now, before they have a chance to get away."

"I do not think that is such a good idea, Edmund," Caspian cut in.

The younger boy glared at him for a moment before turning to the scout and saying curtly, "You're dismissed."

"On last thing, your highness. One of my scouts hasn't returned. I think we'll hear from him soon, but I thought you should know incase anything has gone wrong."

"Thank you." Silently, Edmund waited for the big cat to depart, before rounding on Caspian. "What did you think you were doing? Undercutting my authority like that, and in front of a soldier no less! I aught too-"

"Aught to what? Aslan says I'm a king of Narnia, as much as anyone."

"You're not half the kin-"

"That Peter was? I don't doubt that, but Edmund, your brother and I reached an understanding before the end came. I discovered that I respected him, I'm glad to say, and I think that he would have allowed me the position Aslan has given me. Please, whether you respect me or not, do what your brother would have wanted and honor Aslan's wishes."

"You know nothing of what my brother would have wanted!"

"Edmund, please. Let's not argue now."

"I won't forget this. As soon as we finish these rebels, this conversation will resume in full. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, now let's get going."

"Very well."

With that, the two sons of Adam mounted their horses and began dealing out positions to their soldiers, before heading off to face their advisarys.


	6. Musings in the Dark

**Author's Note:** Wow, has it really been two years? I am soo sorry guys. I've been meaning to continue this story, but somehow it never quite happened. Well, at any rate, I'm taking a stab at finishing it now. So, this is a rather short chapter, but it's something. If ya'll wouldn't mind sending in critiques, spelling corrections, and the like, I'd be extremely thankful. Moreover, my plot bunny is currently an emaciated little thing that could die at any moment, so if ya'll want to feed it ideas, I'm sure it would be happy. Just let me know what you think might happen, or what should happen. I'm not making guarantees (mostly because I'd ultimately like to avoid being too predictable), but I might work in some of your ideas. So here it is, after a long hiatus... a chapter that is fairly dark and introspective...

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

The cave was narrow, dark. Stalagmites rose from the floor at jagged intervals and shale covered the spaces in between. It was quite obvious that the system had not been formed by human - or even Narnian - hands.

The two kings sat on their horses a couple of yards away from the mouth, just staring at it. Surely Edmund knew that they could not bring the horses in there? It would mean a broken leg for sure, and Caspian wasn't nearly willing to part with good Destrier... not after having lost just about everything else from his old life. "Perhaps we should wait," Caspian said once again, his tone more insistent than it had been in the past.

"No, we're going," the younger king stated, and he began dismounting. "We don't have time to spare. We'll just leave those who can't walk on this sort of ground to guard here."

Caspian had already leapt off his horse when the other boy's words came to his ears, but his expression hardened. "It would not be wise to leave any more troops behind!" he growled, coming face to face with Edmund. Inside he was quaking. A part of him refused to believe that he was genuinely arguing with such a figure of legend, but that could not be avoided. It was apparent that Edmund was not at his best. "I have counseled before that we should get reinforce..." His argument died on his tongue as he saw Edmund staring at him, eyes gone narrow, black, cold; just like the cave. Caspian swallowed.

"I thought you were the one who didn't want to argue any longer," Edmund hissed. Caspian shrunk even more at that and started to fish for something to say, but the king just brushed past him, handing his reins to one of the Narnians that would, apparently, be staying behind.

Where was all this leading? It wouldn't do very well for Alsan to have declared him a king of Narnia just a few days before he died. Surely the Great Lion wouldn't have done that? But this? This foolhardy, dangerous, idiotic - he sighed. There was no hope for it. He knew that. One way or another, Edmund was going to do this, and he'd promised Queen Susan - Susan - that Edmund would return safely. Without another comment, Caspian lowered his head, rounded his shoulders, and ran to catch up with the determined king.

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

Truth to tell, Edmund wasn't sure about this whole scheme either. Or at least he wasn't for a fraction of a second here and there. The tactician in him that had ruled over Narnia and helped Peter - Oh Alsan, Peter! - fight all those battles told him in no uncertain terms that this was perfectly stupid. A year ago, or however many years it had been, he would have felt somewhat more confident, he would have known the territory, known this cave, and therefore known exactly what he was getting himself and his men into, but as the River Rushing had proven, the Pevensie knowledge of geography was slightly out of date, and he had no memories of anything even resembling these caverns.

All that only occurred to him in those brief moments, however.

Honestly, how could he even contemplate turning back now? So much owed... so much lost. He wasn't one to dwell on pain. Really, he wasn't. There had been that period of his life when he'd been young and stupid and all too willing to hold grudges, but he'd most definitely learned from that. He'd become someone who practiced righteous rage and nothing more. He'd stopped his anger and pain when all had been righted. But this? How could he forgive this? How could he forget it? There was the aching absence of a brother he'd come to love, Lucy's shattered heart, Susan's forced stoicism, and he - he felt as if he'd been wounded. There was no pain, or very little, but there wasn't a doubt that the life was slowly draining from him. How could he plug it? Better yet, how could a warrior be passive when his family was so horribly broken?

He brushed the few renegade tears off on his sleeve before marching on, one hand bearing the torch, the other resting none-too-casually on the pommel of his sword. He _would_ end this.

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

Reepicheep was taking the point position in the foray, of course. Well, twas near enough. He was forced to follow behind those great clumsy brutes commonly called dogs. In all honesty, were it not for their superlative senses of smell, they surely would have been left behind for their cacophonous braying.

When one bludgeoned him in the face with it's tail, he'd had more than enough. "For all beneath the Great Lion!" he huffed, rearing up to stand on his legs and put a paw on his rapier, "Good Sirs! That is quite enough of that! Mind where you're putting your... your... extraneous portions!"

The talking dog in front of him turned it's droopy head to face him, strings of drool dangling like tassels. "My what?"

The Chief of Mice slapped a paw across his face. What manner of incompetents did they expect him to work with? "You're tail, dog, your tail. Stop hitting me with it!"

"Oh... sorry..." Then the dog was bounding off, no doubt in some alien form of competition with it's peers for whatever scent the villains might have left.

Ah! What was he doing? He shouldn't bemoan such simple grievances while regicidal traitorous were on the loose, especially with the two sovereigns in such mortal straights. Every instinct within him warned that this was not a wise action. The two of them were quite obviously emotionally compromised to the discriminating observer.

Wincing as he threaded through the scattered stones, he rebuked himself yet again. Questioning his superiors was far below his dignity. He was proud to serve them to whatever end, and that was that. As that ancient Narnian had once said, 'twas not our part to wonder why, twas our part to do or die.' *

He had just gotten back into the rhythm of things when the dogs began yammering at a whole new volume. Sighing, he ducked his head and ran in earnest, hoping to learn as quickly as he may what had stirred the dogs to a new pitch.

bdbdbdbdbdbdbd

Caspian wasn't altogether sure he knew how to deal with this situation. It wasn't as if he could walk up to Edmund and talk with him while tracking down his brother's killers. But the fact of the matter was that what should have been a short walk and a hard fight was becoming a very, very long walk. How far back did these caves go anyway?

He glanced to the side and saw a head with horns jutting out of it. Eyes widening, he started to take a step back before he realize it was just a fawn. He was still getting used to that.

Just as he was about to ask the fawn about the caves, he heard a clamor from up ahead. He hardly took a moment to react, emergencies had become far too regular of late for him not to have an ingrained response. Charging forward, he stumbled over the sharp, loose rocks, but still managed to pull abreast of the younger boy. A moment and one bend in the tunnel later, he was pulling himself to a stop just a few feet from a swarm of confused dogs.

"What is it?" Edmund demanded, and Caspian felt a pang of sympathy for the dogs.

A german pointer decided to speak up, large brown eyes looking nothing short of pitiful. "Well, King, the trail goes off this way," he said, lifting a paw and stretching his nose down the main passage. "But it's also coming from over here," he added and trotted off a pace, before pointing into the gloom.

Hesitantly, Edmund lifted his torch to expose another opening in the rock. Caspian winced. What sort of maze had they fallen in? His thoughts were interrupted though by a quiet huff.

Looking down, he saw Reepicheep bowing to both him and Edmund in turn. "If it please Your Majesties," the knight of Narnia said, "I believe an accurate translation would be that our villainous foes have journeyed forth on separate paths. I'm not sure how we'll find which way they've gone, or how to ensure that they won't circle back on us." The mouse turned and looked up to Edmund, waiting for a response.

The younger king paused for a long moment, and Caspian was relieved to see that Edmund was actually considering things for once, not just rushing in, ignoring the costs. Perhaps they would head back now?

"We'll station some of our fastest here, as a rearguard. If the Telmarines attempt to outflank us, we'll have warning. Now which way is the scent stronger?"

The german pointer perked up at that and tested the air and ground once again before going rigid. "This way, Sire!" he called.

"Then let's be off," Edmund said. The younger boy shoved past Caspian and two others, barreling deeper into the tunnel and leading the way for his meager army.

Caspian did his best not to hang his head. So much for a calm and considering Edmund.

* Since this (mis)quote was originally (as far as I can tell) from "The Charge of the Light Brigade" which was written long before 1939 and I figured one of the kids may have imported it to Narnia.


End file.
